The True Legacy of Revan
by The Revanite Lord
Summary: Jarrod Braell doesn't know about his family's secret heritage. As the first Force sensitive descendant of Revan, these are his adventures as he becomes a member of the New Jedi Order and faces challenges he never thought he'd have to. No slash.
1. Prologue

A/N:

For my first story I wanted to choose something that was truly close to my heart, and Star Wars certainly fit the bill. This story is set in the old EU universe. Please read and review, all constructive criticism is appreciated. Flames will be ignored. I'll try to update at regular intervals, but as an engineering student...we'll see. If all goes well, the next chapter should be online in the next few days, a week at most...

Disclaimer:

I, The Revanite Lord, do not, in any way, own the Star Wars franchise. I wish I would, though.

* * *

 _Prologue_

He'd waited so long now. And all of it in this one place too, even as a Force ghost he couldn't move more than a few yards from his physical anchors. He couldn't even interact with the ruined temple around him.

For quite a while, he'd thought his current state was caused by the Sith Emperor, Vitiate. He'd been both controlled and imprisoned by the man before, and it seemed just like the ancient Sith to torture the man that defied his mental manipulations for three centuries. But even as that monster was destroyed on Ziost, his confinement in the jungle persisted.

When he resigned himself to his current existence, and his inability to do anything about it, he knew he needed to do something, anything, to keep the mental stability he'd regained by merging his Light and Dark halves. And his only available tool was the Force.

In his prime, after he regained his lost memories, he should have been able to sense his friend, the former Jedi Exile Meetra Surik from across the Galaxy. He could not sense her at that time because, as he'd learn a while later, she was severed from the Force at the time. He would attempt something similar, to follow their familial connection and observe his descendant Theron.

It was difficult at first, the image in his mind's eye unfocused. And his descendant's lack of substantial connection to the Force certainly didn't help. But the Force flows through, connects everything, and over time, his senses sharpened, letting him follow Theron's life as an observer.

Over the years, he could see his many times great-grandson grow as a person, and find love. The fact that the woman in Theron's life was a Sith shouldn't have surprised him. The RSIS agent's flirtatious encounters with Lana Beniko over the years were a clear indication, and when they realized they'd actually fallen in love and decided to pursue it, they knew they couldn't remain on opposing sides in the conflict between the Galactic Republic and the resurgent Sith Empire. Together, slowly, carefully, they orchestrated a battle in which they were able to fake their deaths.

They decided to settle down on Taris, adopting the false surname of Braell and lead a quiet life after the horrors of war they'd both witnessed. When their first and only child was born like Theron himself, without Force Sensitivity, Beniko was initially heartbroken that she wouldn't be able to teach her son about the Force. After years of unsuccessfully trying to conceive again, and their son growing to resemble his father, Lana made peace with this situation.

When they felt that their son was mature enough, they revealed the true origins of their family, and with it, the true surname of the family – Shan. At this point, the Shan family was known Galaxy-wide to be descended from the legendary Revan, with the Grand Master of the Jedi Order as his last descendant.

The son took the revelation well, and grew up to be a man Revan was proud to count among his descendants. In his mid-twenties, the youngest member of the Shan family found love among the colonists of Taris, and eventually had a son as well. Eventually the first generation of Braells grew old, and Lana decided to make a holocron, containing all her knowledge of the Force, in order to teach an eventual Force sensitive descendant.

Years passed, and Taris was slowly rebuilt, with the Braell family becoming an important part of Tarisian society. Theron and Lana passed away in peace, and the knowledge of their family roots became a closely guarded secret, never shared with anyone not part of the Braells.

Revan's senses became sharper and sharper over the many years, and shortly before the end of the New Sith Wars, he was finally able to observe other individuals that were strong in the Force. He saw as Bane trained on Korriban, and later utilized the knowledge recorded in Revan's own, hastily constructed holocron, to decimate the Brotherhood of Darkness and create the Rule of Two and the Sith Grand Plan. He witnessed what he deemed as the Republic's betrayal of the Jedi Order, the Ruusan Reformation severely limiting the Order, even as the new Sith Order hid in the shadows, plotting the downfall of the Jedi.

He observed the future Grand Master of the Jedi, Yoda, in his youth, his rise in the ranks of the Order, and his eventual ascension to Grand Master. Revan felt that after the Ruusan Reformation, the quality of the Jedi produced by the Order slowly declined, and as the Republic entered its last decades only a few of them could have stood against the Jedi of old.

As he saw the Sith plan come to fruition, he desperately wanted to warn the Jedi, but over the millennia he'd come to realize that he was anchored to his helmet for a reason, and had to wait for someone worthy to come and claim his mantle. He witnessed the Invasion of Naboo and the training of Anakin Skywalker under Obi-Wan Kenobi. He could see the disaster that was Anakin's training over the course of years.

The Jedi Order was, with its current rules laid down after the Seventh Battle of Ruusan, simply put, ill-equipped to train a child like Skywalker. Too long had they denied and suppressed their emotion, and for someone not raised since infancy in that mindset, such a thing was impossible to achieve on the level required by the Order, and what could have been Skywalker's greatest source of strength, became his greatest weakness instead.

The stress caused by the Clone Wars, his apprentice's exile from the Order, and his wife's pregnancy made the Hero Without Fear easy to manipulate into falling to the Dark Side. The fallout after Anakin became Darth Vader was in a way awe inspiring, and the Republic betrayed the Jedi Order once again. Order 66, Operation: Knightfall and the Great Jedi Purge truly annihilated the Jedi, with only a few escaping certain death.

The Sith Emperor Palpatine ruled the Galaxy with an iron fist for more than two decades with his apprentice, Vader. When the Skywalker twins came to Yavin, Revan hoped that Luke would be the one to take his mantle, but he wasn't drawn to the ruins of Vitiate's temple.

Five years later, merely a year after Darth Sidious' apparent death at the hands of the newly redeemed Anakin Skywalker, the latest member of the Tarisian Braell family was born.

And Revan knew his long wait was almost over.

The child was the one that would free him of this wretched place. He could feel it in his metaphysical bones.

And after his more than three and a half millennia long confinement on Yavin 4, the decade or two until the child's inevitable trek to this Force-forsaken moon didn't seem long at all.

He would finally be free!


	2. I

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Star Wars franchise in any way, shape, or form. If only...

* * *

 _I_

18 ABY

His mother would not be lenient with his punishment this time, Jarrod Braell knew this.

Repeatedly, he was warned not to leave the tower complex without an escort to explore the city, but a teenager always knows better. And now he was lost in the Middle City of Taris.

He left the Braell Innovative Engineering Incorporated (BIEI) tower more than five hours ago, through the entrance to the Middle City, and, in short order, lost his way in the complex maze of the faded ecumenopolis. And now the sun started its slow descent, two of the four moons orbiting the planet already visible in the darkening sky.

His family founded the BIEI some three hundred years ago, employing many software engineers and computer technicians to become one of the largest companies on Taris. The Braell Tower was one of the few buildings that bridged two levels of the city, the skyscraper's base being in the Middle City, expanding upwards, through into the Upper city, where it retained the gleaming, rounded appearance of the buildings unique to Taris.

The Middle City section of the Braell Tower contained all the research and development laboratories, testing rooms, and the various production facilities for the company. The Upper City part of the massive building held all the offices and meeting rooms necessary to run such a company, while the uppermost levels of the Tower were reserved as the primary residence of the founding family. This arrangement also included an indoor hangar bay between the offices and the apartments of the Braells.

Jarrod's family was considered extremely wealthy by Tarisian standards, and the teenager was spoiled by his mother after his father's death when the boy was six years old. If it wasn't for old holos, the teen wouldn't even remember his father. He never went to public school, his mother hired the best teachers to tutor her son. The boy excelled in many of the subjects he was tutored in, especially those related to computers. At thirteen, Jarrod was already an accomplished slicer, probing the company's cyber defences to help improve them. Unfortunately, geography was definitely NOT one of the subjects he was proficient in.

After the planet's reconstruction, the rigid social structure of ancient Taris never returned. Of course, the Upper City was inhabited mostly by the wealthy, but then again, the reconstruction of the Upper City never quite reached the same size as before the Bombardment four millennia ago.

The Middle City seemed safe enough. Though not entirely absent of criminal activity, compared to the Lower City, the Taris Civil Authority almost never had to enforce the laws here.

After hours had passed, Jarrod tried retracing his steps: he'd sneaked out of the tower complex, past the parking space reserved for the employees, followed the streets of Middle City, and after hours had passed, he realized he didn't know the way back to his home.

He was too embarrassed to ask for help from the other Tarisians – thanks to the sheltered life he'd led up to this point, he was socially awkward, not interacting with anyone besides his mother and tutors, unless he absolutely had to. But if he asked for directions to the Braell Tower, people would make the connection between the boy before them and the heir to the Braell fortune. And his mother told him, repeatedly, not to bring shame upon his family.

It was hopeless. His skills at navigating the veritable maze of the Middle City was clearly not up to the task of finding his way back, and after hours of wandering around on the streets, he simply couldn't take it anymore. He slumped down next to one of the countless buildings on the streets of the ecumenopolis, this one with less people walking around than some of the others he'd been on.

He slumped down, and cried in despair. He knew his mother would find him eventually, but in a world-city inhabited by more than a billion sentients, this could take days. The thought only made him cry harder. The passersby paid no mind to the child wailing on the edge of the street.

After nearly half a standard hour of crying, someone finally approached him.

He couldn't have known the events that followed.

...

"There you are!"

Through his teary eyes the boy didn't recognize the man. After a few moments of staring up at the one that addressed him, Jarrod finally recognized the uniform.

That of the BIEI Security Branch.

"Your mother's been worried sick," – when the teen gave no response, the man continued, "come, I'll take you back to the Tower."

With that, the man started walking down the street, Jarrod scrambled to follow.

For minutes they walked in silence, until finally the boy could take it no more.

"I just wanted to explore a bit," – his tone hesitant, barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to worry mother."

"You should have taken an escort, then." – the man answered with a shake of his head.

"I know…"

Jarrod felt truly miserable for the first time in his life. He never caused much trouble for his mother or the various sitters she left to look after him if she had to leave on a business trip.

The boy was lost in his thoughts until he heard another man call out.

"Look what we have here, boys," – the new man's rough voice exclaimed, "an uptown rich-boy!"

Two other men laughed, at either side of the speaker. Neither of them seemed overly intelligent, the man in the middle was definitely the brains of the trio.

His guard immediately shoved Jarrod slightly behind him, his right hand slowly inching toward the blaster holstered on his tigh.

"I recognize you, boy, if only because of the uniform of your guard! You are Jarrod Braell! Son of Jailyn Braell!"

"When I say run, run!" – his guard whispered.

"You know, boys," – the leader of the trio addressed his compatriots, "I used to work for the Braell family. It was a good job, paid well. Until this runt's _mother_ ," – Jarrod had never heard the word with such venom behind it, "decided to fire me."

Over the course of his impromptu monologue, the man's eyes turned malicious, dark with greed.

"I think we ought to extend our hospitality to young Jarrod here, until his mother decides to pay us to escort the boy home."

The trio drew their blasters, as did the guard.

"RUN!"

But Jarrod couldn't. For the first time, he was truly in danger. And he was paralyzed with fear.

His guard grabbed his hand and found them some cover – behind a bench on the sidewalk. As the firefight erupted around him, suddenly it was as if he was seeing, hearing, _sensing_ for the first time.

He was hyperaware of his surroundings. The blue-and-crimson flashes of the blasters, his own labored breathing, his _fear_.

Then, the dam broke, and he could sense everything. As feelings of more than a billion people on the planet assaulted his new senses, so did the specks of their life, and his thirteen-year-old mind was overwhelmed.

The scream next to him broke Jarrod out of his near-trance. He gagged at the smell of burnt flesh that assaulted his nose. His guard had taken a blaster bolt to the chest.

The teen put pressure on the wound, even as he sensed the speck of light that was the older man's life drain out. He could hear the murderous trio approach. At the back of his mind, he could still sense life of a billion sentients around him. And one of them just slipped away.

Something changed in the air then. Fear turned to anger. How dare they? How dare they take away the life of another, just to satisfy their greed?! He would have gladly given them the considerable amount of credits in his personal account!

He turned and charged at the trio. He didn't know why. He'd never even taken any self-defense classes, but his mind was clouded, and he simply didn't care.

His attacks were wild swings at first, and they laughed at the child attempting to harm them. The one he was attacking didn't even bother to defend himself. Finally, after many attempts, he managed to hit the man, and he doubled over in pain from the surprising strength behind the punch.

Jarrod grabbed the man's head, even as he used his bent thigh as a springboard to vault over the assailant's shoulder. With an audible crack the man's neck broke, the speck that signified him at the back of the teen's mind vanished abruptly.

The other two were staring at him, open-mouthed. In a small part of his still clouded mind he was astonished. He'd seen that move in one of the popular action holos. He didn't know what made him think of even attempting it. He just took in the man's position and followed his instinct.

"Kriff!" – the former Braell security member swore loudly.

Jarrod's moment of distraction cost him greatly. The duo started firing in his direction with their blasters. His mind clouded once again.

Dodge. Roll. Sidestep. On and on it went, the teen evading the crimson bolts with unnatural agility. But the boy knew he couldn't keep this up for long. He had to do something.

He started running towards the remaining accomplice, something inside compelling him to try and take him out of the fight.

He zigzagged to the man, evading the bolts coming at him. When he was near, he jumped toward the man, his fist closing. Jarrod dug deep within, he knew the punch would have to knock the older man unconscious.

Time seemed to slow. His fist neared the man's head.

With a sickening, wet crunch Jarrod's fist connected even as the man tried to duck. The skull broke, impaling the man's brain, killing him instantly.

His fist was covered in brain matter. This thought finally broke through to the boy, and his rational side was in control of his actions again. The urge to vomit came strong.

His lone remaining assailant stared at Jarrod. Here was a boy, barely a teenager, and he took out two of his friends with a brutality he'd never witnessed before. And now this child dared to stare at his own murderous hands in remorse!

The feeling at the back of Jarrod's mind intensified. His instinct screamed at him to move. A crimson bolt flew at his head.

But even as the boy started dodging it, the teen knew he would fail. The cloud didn't return, and he could barely move in exhaustion. His instinctive movement made sure the bolt wouldn't be fatal. The impact of the shot as it connected to his left shoulder threw the teen off-balance, and he fell to the ground.

His injury was incredibly painful. His shoulder was bleeding, even as he tried to put pressure on it. The man started walking in his direction.

He aimed his blaster at Jarrod. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. HE WANTED TO LIVE!

Time slowed. The specks of life were at the forefront to his mind.

With the blackness crawling at the edge of his vision, he reached out to the small light of his assailant. He started smothering it, his fear of death lending fuel to his action.

The blaster fell to the ground. The man started scratching his throat, gasping for breath.

He could feel himself start to slowly succumb to exhaustion, but he couldn't stop now. The man crumpled to the ground, still hungry for precious air. After what seemed like an eternity to Jarrod, the man finally went still, the spark of life gone from his senses.

He heard people running. He looked up through bleary eyes. He recognized the Taris Civil Authority uniform. _Nice of you to show up on time,_ he thought sarcastically.

Blackness claimed him, and he knew no more.

* * *

A/N:

As promised, the first chapter has arrived. I'm sorry it took so long, but it's here now. I wanted to go for 3k word chapters, but I thought I kept you guys waiting long enough. Let me know what you guys think about the fight scene, it was the first I've ever written.

Anyway, I decided to try and update the story every Saturday, but if I finish a chapter before then, I'll upload it...

Update 09/08/2015: A friend pointed out a few mistakes for me, I corrected them. Progress on the next chapter is considerably slower, but I'm confident I'll be able to upload it by Saturday...


End file.
